Читать книгу Passion, Betrayal And Killer Highlights - Kyra Davis - Страница 8

“Life is like a never ending play,” he said between drags on his cigarette. “We all have roles to perform and there’s always some critic insisting we’ve been miscast.”

—Words To Die By

We hadn’t gotten very far before we were headed off by a particularly butch policewoman who used her hand as a barrier. “Sorry, no one’s allowed beyond this point.”

“My sister’s in there,” I argued. “This is her house.”

The woman was completely unmoved. “You’ll see her later.”

“Well, if it isn’t Sophie Katz and her victim—er—friend, Anatoly Darinsky.”

I looked up to see the tall, lean form of Detective Lorenzo. His eyes narrowed as they met mine. He had let his black curls grow out since the last time I had seen him, which made him look younger, if not nicer. I felt the muscles in my neck tighten.

“You’re the detective handling this case?” I asked.

“One of them.”

“I think there’s a conflict of interest here. You hate me and you’ve been sent to investigate my brother-in-law’s murder. It doesn’t seem reasonable to expect you to remain objective.”

Anatoly put his hand on my shoulder in what must have appeared to others to be a supportive gesture. Only I knew that there would be permanent indentation marks where his fingers were digging into my flesh.

“What exactly do you want me to be objective about?” Lorenzo asked. “And how do you know your brother-in-law was murdered?”

Anatoly loosened his grip, but not enough to eliminate all the discomfort. I’m not sure what he thought he was accomplishing. Obviously what I needed was to be smacked upside the head.

I took a deep breath and soldiered forward. “Leah called me a little while ago, distraught. She told me she had…found him.”

“Do you know if this was before or after she called us?”

“I…don’t know. I didn’t think to ask. She loved him so much…. I’m really very worried about her—can I see her?”

“Just a few more questions.” Lorenzo pulled out a pocket notebook and pen. “Did she tell you how he was killed?”

“She wasn’t sure. She said there was a lot of blood and it seemed to be coming from his head.”

“She called and told you there was blood coming out of her husband’s head,” he said flatly.

“Mmm, I think that was it. It wasn’t all that clear…you know, with all the crying and all.”

“And the first thing you did was go out and hire a private detective? Any particular reason for that?”

Anatoly slid his hand down to my waist. “I was with Sophie when Leah called. We’ve become…close. I wanted to be here for her and her family.”

He pulled me tight against his side and I could feel his body heat radiating through his jacket. I reached my arm out to return his squeeze, somehow managing to “accidentally” brush it against his butt in the process.

“Right.” Lorenzo made another note.

I’m not very good at reading upside down but I think I could make out the word dysfunctional.

“When was the last time you saw Leah?”

“This afternoon,” I said. “She was on her way to see a friend…not sure who. Anyway, she stopped by to say hi.”

Lorenzo made another little note. “Did she say anything else?”

“It was just a basic conversation between sisters. She asked how I was, inquired about my next book, and then told me to stop talking to my cat and find a human companion to date and converse with.”

The detective glanced up at Anatoly. “She doesn’t consider Mr. Darinsky here to be human?”

“Well, Anatoly has a lot of apelike qualities, so it can be confusing.”

Anatoly removed his arm.

“How was her marriage?” Lorenzo said.

“Spectacular.”

“Spectacular?”

“Mmm-hmm. He brought home a paycheck and left her alone,” I explained. “A woman couldn’t ask for more.”

Anatoly made a noise of disapproval.

“That isn’t very liberated of you,” Lorenzo noted.

“Don’t get me wrong, she loved the time they did spend together, but Leah had a life of her own. She adored Bob because he gave her the space she needed to maintain her individuality while still supporting her. And he always made time to take her out on the occasional date or family outing with their son. I mean really, how much more liberated can you get?” It was also complete bullshit. I pretended to search my purse for a tissue so I wouldn’t have to make eye contact with either of my current male companions. Hopefully the picture I had painted of Leah would make her seem like the kind of gal who wouldn’t get all homicidal if she discovered her husband was messing around with some college-aged slut.

“Sophie!”

I looked up just in time to see Leah hurl herself in my direction. She flung her arms over my shoulders and tucked her tear-stained face into the crook of my neck. “Oh, how can this be happening to me?”

Lorenzo looked more irritated than sympathetic, but he did have the courtesy to put the notebook away. “It’s going to take a while for us to finish searching the house and dusting it for prints. Why don’t you come down to the station with us, Mrs. Miller? We can finish up the questions, and if your sister here would like to follow us she can give you a ride when we’re done.”

“Do you expect to be finished with the house by the time Leah’s through with questioning?” Anatoly asked.

“Not likely. I’m sure you understand the necessity of being thorough,” Lorenzo said, directing his comments to Leah.

Leah nodded numbly, and Anatoly took a step closer to her. “We’ll take Leah to the station.”

Lorenzo paused and studied Anatoly for a moment. “It might be more efficient if she rode with me or one of the other detectives. That way we could ask her some questions on the way over.”

“She’s been through enough without being forced to ride in a police car like some kind of criminal,” Anatoly said firmly.

My eyes traveled from Anatoly to Lorenzo. It was a nobrainer that Anatoly wanted to coach Leah on what to say before she answered any more questions, and it was equally obvious that Lorenzo would do whatever he could to prevent that from happening.

Lorenzo smiled and turned his attention back to Leah. “You know, Mr. Darinsky is right. You’ve been through enough. The last thing you need is to be dragged to some ugly police station. Why don’t we just sit in the car over there—” he instinctively held up his hand to block Anatoly’s predictable protest “—the unmarked car, in the front seat. I’ll have one of the guys bring us some coffee and we’ll finish the questions here.”

Anatoly’s jaw got a little tighter but he didn’t say anything. Leah looked to me questioningly for what I assumed was guidance. Ironic, since if she had ever taken my guidance before she never would have married Bob in the first place. But now I was all “guidanced out,” so of course I looked to Anatoly, who managed to loosen his jaw enough to speak.

“Go ahead, Leah, we’ll be waiting for you here.”

Leah allowed Lorenzo to steer her gently to the proper car. He stopped to talk to one of the uniformed officers, possibly to request the promised coffee, which was just stupid because the last thing Leah needed was to be more amped.

Anatoly stood silently with his arms crossed in front of him.

“Where’s the hidden camera?” I whispered.

Anatoly’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“You know, the spy stuff that detectives carry around with them when they go to crime scenes.”

Anatoly shook his head in disgust. “I was in the Russian Army, not the KGB. I don’t have any spy stuff.”

Well, that was disappointing. “Not even a mini tape recorder?”

“Not even that.”

“Then what the hell did you go back up to your apartment for?”

“A jacket.”

“You are so not worth twelve thousand dollars.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you had ever given me the opportunity to get you undressed.”

I opened my mouth to make a clever comeback, but then quickly closed it in order to keep the drool in. Not healthy. I really needed to try to be more somber. I thought about Bob’s early demise. Unfortunately that didn’t sufficiently lower my spirits. I turned my thoughts to Leah’s potential incarceration. That did it.

“Do you think she’s telling him—”

“Sophie, do us all a favor and shut up.”

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“When did you get the impression I was nice?”

“Good point. So this undressing thing…is that really part of services rendered? Because it’s a good marketing tool. ‘Hire Darinsky, he’ll catch your spouse with his pants down, and as a consolation he’ll lower yours, as well.’ Really, I think there could be a high demand for that. But since I’m hiring you for more solemn purposes, I think I’ll have to pass.”

“I didn’t actually offer.”

“The hell you didn’t.”

Anatoly smiled slightly. “I’d forgotten what you were like when you weren’t busy setting people up for murder.”

“Yep, this is me. Spunky and fun.”

“I was thinking argumentative and insane, but you should stick to the euphemisms that work best for you,” Anatoly said.

I gave him what I hoped came across as a disdainful glare. “I’m cold. I’m going back to the car.”

Anatoly hesitated, then carefully removed his jacket and held it out for me. I couldn’t help grinning while I slipped my arms into the sleeves. This is what I liked about Anatoly: he was full of contradictions. Though the jacket was about eight sizes too big, I managed to find a way to get my hands into the pockets. Anatoly reached out to stop me but it was too late—I had already felt it.

“What’s this?”

“Nothing, now just—”

“It’s a tape recorder! And it’s on, isn’t it.”

“Shh!”

“You do have spy stuff,” I hissed.

“Sophie, this is not the place. We’ll talk about it when we’re alone.”

“Oh, please, no one’s listening. You just don’t want to admit I was right.”

“You were right. Now shut up.”

I wasn’t quite as offended by the command now that I knew I was right. I simply spent the rest of the time smiling smugly at him while he ignored me. Finally, Leah emerged from the car and came over to us.

“Please get me out of here.”

My smugness was instantly squashed. Hopefully the fact that I kept forgetting about Leah’s plight was due to shock and denial and not extensive egocentrism. I ushered Leah to my car, where Anatoly once again assumed the role of driver. Leah refused my offer of the front passenger seat and tried to open the back door for herself. Unfortunately her hand was shaking so badly that she found even this task too difficult. I opened it and buckled her seat belt for her before crawling into the seat next to Anatoly.

The first five minutes of the drive were silent. It occurred to me that it would have been better if this had happened back when Leah was under the illusion that her marriage was successful. That way her final memories of Bob likely would have been positive. As it stood now, she had been robbed not only of her husband but also of the right to be angry with him. Unless of course it had been that anger that had led to his death. I shook my head vigorously and Anatoly gave me a questioning glance that I didn’t bother responding to. I wasn’t going to allow myself those thoughts. Leah was a lot of things—neurotic, insecure, judgmental—but she also had a good heart. She was simply not capable of murder.

“Jack! Oh my God, I forgot about Jack!”

I quickly turned toward Leah. “Forgot him? Forgot him where?” Images of Jack suffocating in the back seat of her Volvo flashed in front of my eyes.

“I dropped him off with Miranda for a playdate this afternoon. Oh Lord, what am I going to say to him?”

I doubted it was necessary to explain a father’s death to an eighteen-month-old child, particularly if the victim was a man that had a stronger relationship with his laptop than his son. “Why don’t you call Miranda and see if Jack can sleep over?”

“I couldn’t. It’s asking too much.”

“She’ll understand.”

“Sophie…”

“Phone.” I stuck my hand between the seats and Leah reluctantly pressed her cell phone into my palm. I looked up Miranda’s number in the memory and pressed Call.

“Allen residence.” The woman on the other end of the line spoke with a Mexican accent and sounded extremely harried.

“Hi, this is Sophie Katz, Jack’s aunt….”

“Oh, thank goodness! You’re coming to get Master Jack.”

Master Jack? Who instructed their ethnic nanny to call their charge’s playmates “Master”? “Well, actually I’m not. You know I think I should explain this to Mrs. Allen.”

“But you are picking him up?” The desperation in the woman’s voice was palpable.

“I really need to talk to Mrs. Allen.”

“Of course.” Was she crying? “I’ll get her.”

My heartbeat quickened as I waited for Miranda to pick up the line. What had Jack done now? Polluted the family’s drinking water with Epsom salts? What if they didn’t let him stay? I empathized with the nanny, but this felt like a her-or-me kind of situation, and I’d be damned if I was up for dealing with a Junior Moriarty.

“Hello? Sophie? It’s Miranda. Is Leah all right?”

“Hi, Miranda. Leah’s…” I looked behind me to see Leah methodically rotating her wedding band around her finger. “Leah’s had a rough night.”

“Yes, she told me about the affair….”

“It’s more than that,” I began. “There’s been a…an unexpected death in the family.”

“I am so sorry to hear that, Sophie. Was it your mother?”

“Mama? Oh, no! Nothing that bad, it was just Bob.” As soon as the words came out I realized how bad they sounded and how horrible I was for saying them. Fortunately my rabbi had informed me there wasn’t a hell to go to. I just had to learn to live with guilt.

“Bob? What happened to Bob?”

There was absolutely no delicate way of putting this. “He was shot.” I thought I saw the corners of Anatoly’s mouth twitch in amusement.

“I don’t understand.”

“I know it’s shocking. We have no idea who did it—a burglar maybe. Leah’s an absolute wreck. Would it be all right if Jack spent the night with you?”

“Of course, of course.” Miranda sounded a little dazed. “Consuello will make sure he’s comfortable.”

Sorry, Consuello, you lose. “Great, Leah will pick him up tomorrow, before nine.”

“No rush, you can pick him up as late as eleven-thirty if you like. Just…give Leah hugs and kisses from us.”

“Will do. I’ll have Leah call before she comes over.” I hung up just as Anatoly was pulling into a parking spot five blocks away from my home.

He tossed the keys onto my lap and made eye contact with Leah through the rearview mirror. “Leah, I’m going to have to ask you a few questions.”

“No more questions. I can’t take it.”

Anatoly sighed. We both got out of the car and Anatoly opened the door for Leah. “I know how hard it is to lose someone you care for,” he said, “but if you’re going to get through this, we’re going to have to put the pieces together so we can figure out what happened tonight.”

“The police are already doing that.”

“Yeah, but unlike the police, Anatoly works for us, not the state,” I said. “He’ll be more sensitive in his approach to this and he’ll conduct his investigation in a way that will best ensure your protection.”

“My protection? Do you think whoever did this is planning on shooting me?”

No, I thought that the police had plans to arrest her for being the “whoever” who did this. “I think you should answer Anatoly’s questions.”

Leah shifted her weight from foot to foot. She is an inch taller than me, but right then she seemed much smaller.

Anatoly put a gentle guiding hand on her shoulder. “Let’s walk.”

Leah nodded and fell into step with him as I trailed behind.

“When was the last time you saw Bob?”

God, Anatoly’s tone sounded so comforting that even I felt myself lulled into a sense of tranquility.

“This morning when he…told me.”

Anatoly nodded and slowed his pace. “Sophie tells me you went to see Bob’s secretary after you left her place a little after five.”

“Erika wasn’t home.”

Anatoly’s pace didn’t change but his shoulders seemed to get a little more rigid. “What did you do then?”

“I parked my car in front of her house and waited for about a half hour. Then I just drove. Erika lives in Daly City, so I got back on Highway 1 and drove down the coast for a while. Then I came back up to the city and drove around the Presidio. I just drove.”

“So you have no—you were alone.” His voice remained steady.

“Yes, that’s right. I needed some space so I could figure out how to get Bob back, and now—now he’s gone forever. I’m a widow.” She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at me. “I don’t know how to be a widow, Sophie.”

Leah didn’t look so steady on her feet, and I contemplated whether it was necessary to remind her to breathe.

“Let’s keep walking,” Anatoly said. We all resumed our journey to my apartment. “When you came home did you see anything unusual? Any people walking around nearby or cars pulling out of parking spots?”

“No, nothing unusual or out of place. I don’t think there were any pedestrians out, and the streets were quiet. I had no idea…I just had no idea.”

“Was the front door locked when you came in?”

“Yes, double locked. Bob is always so careful.”

I stopped myself from correcting her use of the present tense.

“Sophie said that when you got inside there were a few frames containing your wedding pictures that had been smashed on the floor.”

“In the living room, next to him. The rest of the house was in order, just as I had left it. But all three of the framed photos we display in the living room had been broken, and there was a broken highball glass.”

“A highball glass?”

“Shattered right next to Bob. And there was all this blood.” Leah blinked a few times. “Do you think it will always be there?”

Anatoly shook his head uncomprehendingly.

“The blood. Will it stain the floor? I have a book that tells you how to get the worst stains out…but there was so much.”

Leah was in shock. That was obvious. I wanted to reassure her that Pergo didn’t stain, but it didn’t seem appropriate at the moment. “The blood’s going to go away, Leah. It’s all going to get better. Why don’t we go upstairs and I’ll make you a little tea with brandy?”

“Yes, if all else fails, get her drunk,” Anatoly muttered.

I shot him a warning glance before escorting them up to my place. Leah took a seat on my couch without bothering to take off her jacket, and I went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Mr. Katz strolled into the living room undoubtedly hoping to cajole some food out of me, but once he saw both Leah and Anatoly he pulled a U-turn. He was too proud a cat to beg in front of company.

“After you found him you called Sophie. Did you call anyone else before you talked to the police?”

“Not before, no. After the police arrived and right before I came out and saw you I called Cheryl, Bob’s sister.”

Shit, I had forgotten about Cheryl. Usually that was a good thing, but in this case even Ms. Shallow deserved some consideration. “That couldn’t have been a fun phone call,” I said. “How did she take it?”

It was hard to tell from where I was standing, but I could have sworn that I saw a spark of annoyance in Leah’s eyes.

“She reacted like she always reacts—lots of dramatics and lamentations. You’d think that this whole thing was a personal assault against her, as if I weren’t suffering at all.”

I did a quick double take. That was a bit judgmental. Maybe Leah was returning to her old self again. “Well, he is her only living relative,” I pointed out.

“Please. She reacted the same way when Jason Priestley crashed at NASCAR.”

Yep, she was definitely coming around.

Anatoly seemed less impressed with her sarcasm. “Did the police find the murder weapon while you were there?”

“No, I showed them where Bob kept his gun, but it was missing.”

Great, just great. I could easily remember the debate Leah and Bob had over that stupid gun. She didn’t want to have one with a child around but he had insisted that it was a good security measure for the family. Apparently Bob was wrong.

Anatoly leaned against the counter that divided the living room and kitchen and shot me a look that said We’re in deep doo-doo. “Leah, I’m almost done. Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to kill Bob, or for that matter, anyone who held any kind of grudge against him at all?”

“No, everybody loved Bob.”

What drug was she on? Nobody loved Bob, not even her.

“He had lots of friends,” she continued. “The people who worked with him loved him. He was just offered a promotion. It was going to be announced in a few days. His employees couldn’t have been more loyal. Erika thought the sun rose and set around his head. No one wanted to hurt him—to my knowledge. Unless that slut he’s been sleeping with wanted to do him in. That’s always possible.”

I felt like screaming. The woman he had been sleeping with had no motive. Leah did. She had to see that. She had to realize how bad this all looked.

Anatoly cleared his throat. “Last two questions. Did you tell the police about Bob’s affair, or that he told you he was leaving you?”

“No, I…I couldn’t. The only people who know about that are the two of you, Erika and Miranda.”

I could tell by the look on his face that we were thinking the same thing. That was two too many.

“Leah, what’s Bob’s e-mail and password?”

I handed Leah a Post-it and she scribbled down Bob’s private e-mail address and handed it to Anatoly. “The password is June 21.” She hesitated a moment before adding in a much quieter voice, “That’s our anniversary.”

Anatoly waited a few seconds for her to reflect, but I sensed his chivalry was close to used up.

“Any other addresses? His work e-mail, for example?” he asked.

“It’s bmiller@chalet.com. I don’t know what password he used there. I tried accessing his messages when I suspected…” Leah got another faraway look in her eyes.

Anatoly motioned with his hand for her to continue. “I know what you suspected. So what passwords did you try?” he prompted.

“Well, I started with our anniversary, of course. We use that code for all of our accounts, our checking, our various online retailers….”

“What other passwords did you try?”

“My birthday, the date of our engagement, my name, and I tried one other before I gave up…what was it? Oh, of course, the day we first met. None of them worked.”

Anatoly jotted it all down. “Did you try narcissistic?” he whispered under his breath.

I shot him a dirty look, but Leah didn’t appear to have heard him.

“Last thing,” he said. “Are there any questions that the police asked you that I haven’t, or vice versa?”

“No, I’ve answered all these questions before,” Leah said. “I don’t think newly widowed women are supposed to answer all these questions right away. I think they’re supposed to be too distraught to talk. Maybe I’m being callous.”

Maybe she was being crazy.

Anatoly studied her. I got the feeling he was trying to pull information out of her—that she didn’t want to voice. Finally, he shrugged and joined me in the kitchen.

“Come to help me with the tea?”

Anatoly didn’t even bother acknowledging the question. “Meet me at Leah’s at ten-thirty tomorrow morning.”

“Is that a request or an order?”

“Ten-thirty, Sophie. And if you hear anything from the police, call me.” Anatoly left as the kettle began to whistle.

Leah entered the room and crossed to the stove to turn it off. “Skip the tea. Just give me the brandy.”

The next morning I awoke to the sound of grinding coffee beans, which would normally fill me with the kind of inner peace others only experience after visiting the Dalai Lama. However there was an odd pattern to the noise this morning. Normally when you grind coffee you press the top of the coffee grinder for a minute or so until the beans are as fine as grains of black sand. However the person preparing these beans was pressing the grinder for five seconds at a time, and, taking two-minute breaks in between to utter phrases like “Oh, my head!”

I pulled on a robe and went out to the kitchen to see Leah braced against the sink, the grinder currently silent beside her.

Her angry, bloodshot eyes zoomed in on me. “Look at me! Look what you’ve done to me!”

I didn’t immediately answer. I understood that she was hungover but I missed the part that made it my fault.

“Why did you let me drink all that brandy?” She ran her fingers through her hair, inadvertently molding it into a wing formation. “How am I going to reevaluate my life if I feel like my head is going to explode?”

I pulled out a filter and began to prepare the coffeemaker for the beans that I was clearly going to have to grind myself. “Maybe you shouldn’t reevaluate your life just yet.”

“Of course, I have to reevaluate! Weren’t you listening to me last night? I’m not the wife of a comptroller anymore. I’m the widow of a comptroller. That’s an entirely different situation. I have to figure out—OH MY GOD!”

I almost dropped the coffeepot. “What? What is it?”

“This nightgown I’m wearing! You lent me a pink nightgown!”

I blinked. “I thought you liked pink.”

“I’m in mourning! I’m supposed to be wearing black.”

“To the funeral maybe…”

“No, no, no, no.” Leah shook her head hard enough to cause her hair wings to make a flapping motion, then abruptly stopped as she struggled to regain her equilibrium. “There is a period of time in which widows are supposed to wear black, I’m sure of it.”

“Leah, this isn’t Gone with the Wind. No one is going to blackball you for wearing a pink nightgown.”

She started pacing the narrow kitchen. “There’s a way to do this…I know, a book! There’s got to be a book that explains the proper protocol for a newly widowed woman.”

“Like what? Mourning for Idiots? Why don’t you pick up Emily Post’s book on how to be a socially gracious murder suspect while you’re at it, because that seems to be the more pressing problem.”

Leah stopped pacing. “Murder suspect? I didn’t kill Bob.”

“I didn’t say you did, but I’m sure you’ve heard the saying ‘perception is the greater part of reality.’ And I’m pretty sure I know what the police department’s perception is right now.”

Leah looked bewildered, although how this could have been news to her was beyond me.

“But once the police start investigating, they’ll see it wasn’t me. There’s no evidence that could say otherwise because I really am innocent.”

“Wake up, Leah. Innocent people go to jail all the time on bogus charges. It was barely a month ago that Anatoly was charged with assault and murder.”

“But that’s because you set him up, Sophie. You invited him up to your place, kicked a few chairs over or something and then called 911.”

“Okay, forget about that. How many times in the past couple of years have forensic scientists used old DNA evidence to prove that some of the people who have served time for various crimes were actually innocent? While researching Words To Die By, I found out that Ray Krone was in prison for ten years before DNA evidence proved him innocent. What about the cases when DNA evidence isn’t available? Do you think the courts get all those right? You need to look at this realistically and prepare to fight the accusations that are going to come your way.”

In one fluid movement Leah picked up an empty coffee mug and threw it across the room. It exploded against my cabinet door in a burst of ceramic. “I didn’t do it!”

I stood motionless, looking at the remnants of the cup. I had a long history of throwing things, but that’s because I have no self-control. Leah, on the other hand, had always managed to be on the verge of a breakdown without ever actually having one—until now.

Her action must have surprised her, as well, because she had become completely still. Then she slumped against the counter. “I know it looks bad, but I honestly never wished him dead. I wanted the chance to make it work. Why wasn’t I given that, Sophie? Why would anyone do this?” She slid down to the floor, buried her face in her hands and cried.

I reluctantly crept forward and sat down beside her, careful not to get shards of ceramic stuck in my butt. I understood where Leah was coming from. I’m not sure she valued Bob the individual all that much, but she did value their union and the life they had made together. Her choices were not ones that I would ever have made for myself, though they apparently worked for her. But Bob’s extramarital affair had not been one of her choices, nor had his murder. At least I hoped it hadn’t been. Now, after spending years perfecting her role as Mrs. Bob Miller, she was forced to redefine herself, and she had no clue how to do it.

I put my arm around her shoulders. “I’ll ask Mary Ann about the black,” I said, referring to my friend who worked at Neiman Marcus. “She’ll know what you should wear.”

Leah choked back a sob.

“Do you want to cover the mirrors?” I asked.

Leah lifted her tear-stained face. “Cover the mirrors? Bob would have hated that. He wasn’t even Jewish.”

“Look, God’s got Bob covered, so now we’ve got to do what’s necessary to get you through this. The rabbis wrote out some pretty clear instructions on what we Jews are supposed to do when we lose a family member, and you need guidance, soooo…”

Leah nodded and chewed on her lip. “I guess it’s not such a bad idea, but do you think…perhaps just for this morning…?”

“You want to wait until you’ve finished with your makeup and hair.”

“Am I completely shallow and horrible?”

“Maybe, but if so, it’s hereditary, because there’s no way that I’m going to go through the day without my undereye concealer.”

Leah rested her head against my shoulder, which required some contortionist moves on her part, but the gesture was irresistibly sweet. “If you ever try to remind me that I said this I’ll deny it, but honestly—I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’re never going to have to find out,” I said, then reached forward and patted her knee. “And you can count on me reminding you.”

If anybody else had lost her husband I would have had the courtesy to let them shower before me. But it was an undisputed fact that Leah’s particular bathing rituals were the primary reason for California’s water shortage, so I made it a point to sneak in first. When I had finished making myself beautiful, I searched the apartment for something appropriate to cover the mirrors with. It took about five minutes for me to figure out that I had nothing. My downstairs neighbor Nancy sewed. She’d probably have some spare fabric. But there were so many things I’d rather do than ask her for a favor—like go snorkeling in a tanker full of plutonium.

I heard Leah turn off the shower. She’d be done in forty-five minutes max. I had promised her I’d cover the mirrors and I didn’t want to renege on that, especially since it was the only thing that seemed to perk her up. I opened one of my dresser drawers for the eighth time and glared at its contents. Of course there was nothing of use in there. Gym clothes, bathing suits and…

My hand reached in and pulled out the first of my many sarongs that I had collected over time to use as bathing suit covers and skirts during the years that it was fashionable. I shook it out and held it up to the full-length mirror fastened to the closet door. It was the right length. I had seven sarongs and five mirrors. Perfect. I hurried around the apartment hanging up my exotic mourning sheaths. By the time Leah was done I was waiting outside the bathroom holding the sarong I intended to hang in there. Leah opened the door and looked at it questioningly.

“Are you going on a cruise?”

“These are for the mirrors. I didn’t have any black cloth.”

“Are you kidding? It’s going to look like we’re holding a luau.”

“A very somber luau.”

Leah shook her head. “Sophie.”

“I put the black one with the purple and turquoise fish in the living room.”

“I gave that to you when you got accepted into USF! I can’t believe you still have it!”

“I take it with me on every beach vacation.”

“Well, I guess it’s okay. After all, you’re putting the red one in the bathroom and the one I gave you is predominantly black….”

“And if you’ll recall, the fish on it are wearing very serious expressions.”

“Bob loved fish.” And that was it—Leah was in tears again.

I hugged her and tried to conjure up some fond memories of Bob ordering halibut. I wanted to feel more sad about this, if for no other reason than to prove to myself that I wasn’t a sociopath, but my main emotion at the moment was relief. If Leah could just have another breakdown over Bob’s eating habits in front of the police, that might sway their opinions in the right direction. Leah wiped her tears and tried to smooth a crease in a skirt that I had lent her. I slipped past her and covered the last mirror. I heard Leah gasp in what I took to be horror as I pushed in the last thumbtack. “Oh, come on, Leah, it’s a mellow red.”

“It’s not the sarong—I just remembered what I forgot.”

“Which is?”

“Mama.”

“Shit!” I locked eyes with Leah. If Mama came for a visit and discovered a tube of Monistat 7 in the bathroom drawer you could count on her demanding to know why the offending offspring hadn’t called her the minute she felt an itch. Forgetting to call to let her know her son-in-law was murdered was not going to go over well. I glanced at my watch. “She must not have watched the morning news or she would have called by now—”

The phone rang. Leah looked like she had just swallowed her tongue and I felt the threat of a migraine.

“It could be a reporter looking for a quote,” I said.

“Do you have caller ID?”

“No, but I’m going to get it any day now.”

“How helpful.”

Leah and I walked over to the phone and stared at it as it rang for the fourth time. I decided to live dangerously and pick it up right before the answering machine did it for me. “Hel—”

“What kind of child doesn’t call her mother when her sister’s schlemiel husband has come to a schwartzen sof?”

The more excited Mama got, the more Yiddish she used. I wasn’t exactly fluent in the language but I knew that to come to a schwartzen sof was to come to a bad end and that schlemiel was a polite way of calling Bob a prick. I cleared my throat.

“Mama, it really wasn’t my place to call you—Leah should have done that.” I winced as soon as I said it. It was an unfortunate force of habit to transfer my mother’s wrath onto my younger sister. I mouthed the word sorry to Leah. She in turn gave me what I had come to know as the “I’m going to get you for that” look.

“So where’s your sister and the lobbus? Are they all right?”

“Leah and Jack are fine. Jack slept over at a friend’s house and Leah’s…” Leah began to shake her head furiously at me. “Leah’s here, but she’s asleep.”

“At ten in the morning she sleeps?”

“Well, she didn’t sleep much last night. As you pointed out, her husband was killed.”

“So who shot him? Was he some kind of criminal? If I find out that he got my Leah mixed up in any kind of monkey business I’ll…I’ll give him the Einhoreh, that’s what I’ll do.”

“What good—or bad—is the evil eye going to do now that he’s already dead?” I heard Leah choke back another sob and I mentally slapped myself.

Mama muttered some more Yiddish before coming back to English. “Enough with the sleeping—put Leah on the phone.”

It was tempting to think that Mama was just being insensitive to my sister’s need for rest, but it was more likely that she knew I was lying, which was impressive because I’m a pretty good liar.

I took a moment to weigh my loyalty to my sister against my desperate desire to get off the phone. Fortunately, I didn’t have to make the choice because Leah, in what I assume was an unexpected attack of altruism, took the phone from me.

“I’m here, Mama. Yes, I’m okay…Jack’s okay…No, I haven’t eaten anything today…”

I left the room to allow Leah some privacy and to avoid being stuck with the phone again.